Helena Goes to Hollywood: A Helena Morris Mystery (2 page)

I leaned to Jordan. “Is that really her? I haven’t seen her without makeup since she was twelve.”

He nodded. “She cleans up good for the cameras but she’s lucky to get work at her age. Thirty in Hollywood can be iffy.”

“I’m forty. Do I get the senior discount?”

Humor was how I coped with Tinseltown up close. The last eight years living in Vegas had been convenient. It was drivable so I could do short trips and avoid an overdose of crazy.

Jordan shook his bald head. “No discounts unless you’re willing to have it taped for a reality show. But you might want to sign up for fashion rehab first.”

“Sure, that’s my goal in life.” My jeans and T-shirt were already offending the Hollywood crowd. I almost let a smile slip but I focused on the reason for my trip.

“Hi, Sonia,” I said softly, in that voice you use on animals and small children.

She looked up as if surprised.

“Hel,” she cried and clambered off the couch to pull me into a tight hug.

"It’s okay," I replied, still in that same soothing voice and eased her back to the massive couch. Her faithful dog licked her face in agreement with me.

"What are you doing here?” Sonia took a deep breath and smiled big.

Just like my sister to recover in seconds.

"You texted me that you have a stalker. Your personal life is all over
E
! And then you didn’t answer your phone when I called from the road. You think I’m going to do nothing? Be glad I didn't send the police." I walked around the living room; nothing seemed out of place. No sign of intruders. Two empty vodka bottles on the wet bar. "What happened?"

“Nothing really. I’d been drinking when I texted you." She cuddled her crazy dog.

“Cut the crap, Sonia,” I said.

“It’s nothing. I got spooked. At first it was a few odd letters from angry fans of the soap. More kept coming. They’re mad I’m leaving the show and won’t watch
Fed Files
. They hate me.” She sniffed.

"Did you turn the letters over to the show's security?" It wasn't the first time fans got rabid or obsessed with my sister.

She didn’t need me to hold her hands over bad fan mail. Sonia knew that drill. My ex had walked her through it twice. This was the kind of situation that made me miss Todd. He had more patience for Sonia’s antics.

"Nothing happens. Plus I’m at the new show now so who should I give them? The old show or the new show? I need to freshen up my drink. Do you want something? Come on, Hel, I have everything. Jordan is drinking martinis, but just name your poison." She got up and played hostess as if I wasn’t about to strangle her.

With a frown I glanced around the room. Where was the housekeeper? Sonia
never
lifted a finger.
The Twilight Zone
theme played in my head.

"Sure, just a diet whatever." I wasn’t much of a drinker.

Jordan sat on the couch and shrugged at Sonia’s behavior. “So you two are clearly not twins.”

You think?

I flopped down in an arm chair. “Genes can be creative. Sonia takes after our mom. Me, not so much.” That was a bit of an understatement.

The biggest difference was I wore a size ten while my sister barely filled out a four. In most of America I measured about average, but in Hollywood I ranked as plus size and very ordinary in the looks department. Not that I had a complex. I just knew the score.

“Sonia needs something. Hopefully you can shake her into action. She’s just been hiding out,” Jordan said softly.

“I’m not going anywhere until she’s absolutely safe.”

My schedule had always been flexible around my ex’s job. While I’d enjoyed my routine over the last eight years, I could handle a detour better than most. My sister came first. Now the question was where to start when she didn’t feel like sharing?

Sonia handed me a glass and then returned to her indent on the couch with a tall drink. Her dog begged as if he knew what was in the glass.

I took a sip of my drink and set the glass on the table. "Thanks. So you're sure it's not Danny?"

I hated to suspect her husband, but I couldn’t ignore the Danny factor either. Their divorce was high school drama on a Hollywood scale. Danny wasn’t big on brains or talents but he loved Sonia and I’d never doubted that. My brother-in-law could have gone from clingy to obsessed in seconds.

“That boy is a sorry ass case.” Jordan patted Sonia’s arm, his nails shimmering in peach glitter commiseration.

“He cheated. I can‘t live with that.” Sonia folded her arms and huffed out her breath.

Jordan finished his drink and let Fluffy lap the glass. The dog’s collar was studded with diamonds and I wasn’t about to ask if they were real. I wouldn’t put it past Sonia. My sister spent her money oddly but splitting it up with her ex would make it harder.

“Their lawyers are cranking the Hollywood divorce machine overtime. He couldn‘t handle Sonia‘s success, and the press is rabid,” Jordan fussed.

“Don’t give Fluffy another drink. She’s had enough,” Sonia whined and pulled the dog into her lap again.

I saw the tears welling in Sonia’s eyes but no one had answered my question. I wasn’t totally against interrogation tactics.

“What’s up with Danny?” I asked again, this time a little firmer.

“The soap dropped him when I left. Our super couple is over and they wrote us out. He tried to get them to recast me or kill my character off to keep him on. Our final episodes haven’t even aired yet,” Sonia sniffed.

“They wanted a happily ever after. Soaps,” Jordan said with a wide swish of his hand.

Jealousy counted as a motive. They’d been married since they were nineteen. She’d out-earned and outshined him every step of the way.

Sonia rubbed her eyes. "I don’t think it’s Danny. Letters aren’t his thing. The last few days there have been some hang-up calls. All blocked numbers. Then this morning there was a note on the windshield of my car. It had to have happened overnight."

I sat up straight. "A note? Where is it?" Now we were getting somewhere.

"On the kitchen counter. Danny was the only person who knew I left the side door to the garage unlocked. But why would he leave me a weird note?—I have a headache." Sonia swooned like a pro.

"Drink some water, you’re probably dehydrated. Sonia, you should never leave any door unlocked. That garage is attached and four cars wide. Anyone could’ve snuck up to find the easy way in." I headed past the dining room to the granite kitchen counter.

Finally something to go on. Rifling through her cabinets, I found a plastic bag and used it for a glove. Then I slid the casually strewn note into another plastic bag and closed it up. I’d learned a few things from my marriage—not normal things but they would be useful here.

Not much to go on.
You'll be sorry
. Written out in bold block letters with a thick black marker. Danny could certainly manage this, if he wanted.

"I leave that door unlocked because one time I locked myself out of the house. The paparazzi had a field day. No one knows that door is even there." She rubbed her eyes. "The note freaked me out. Someone was right there in my garage. They could've sat in my car. Yuck!"

"They could’ve jerked off in your car. The true wackos have many levels of obsession.” I wanted her to take this seriously.

“That’s so gross.” Sonia shuddered.

Jordan grinned. “Yeah, what if the stalker licked your steering wheel?”

I wasn’t really making my point.

“It's probably just a local fan going too far." I left it on the counter all zipped up in plastic.

Then I spotted a letter tucked between the phone and the Marilyn Monroe salt shaker. “What’s this?”

“N
othing. Good fan mail. I’m trying to remind myself that my fans don’t all hate me. This is just a transition phase.” She sighed loudly and made a meditation hum while cradling her dog.

“Okay.” I freed the letter and read it. “This is impressive.”

“He really gets me. The writing is weird, though,” Sonia frowned.

“It’s iambic pentameter.” The letter was signed
Dr. Brian
. No last name listed.

“What is that?” she asked.

Sonia never took a lit class in her life or even auditioned for the role of Juliet.

“Shakespearean. Your fan is well educated,” Jordan winked.

“Why do people think soap fans are dumb?” Sonia huffed.

I didn’t think they were dumb, but this one made me nervous. “This isn’t a typical fan letter.”

I looked at the front of the envelope. The return address was Los Angeles. Worse still, it had Sonia’s home address on the front, not the studio’s.

“How the hell does he know where you live?” I demanded.

“Don’t start. I try to keep things private but it’s not that easy. He’s harmless.” Sonia fluffed a pillow roughly. “Well educated people should be too smart to stalk.”

I wished that were true. “Don’t make me put on a
Silence of the Lambs
and
Hannibal
marathon. Or would you prefer the Black List? Smart criminals are the worst kind.”

That concept gave her nightmares and always worked for a good threat, but her defensive nature about the whole thing made me back off. I slipped the letter in my pocket for research later. We had bigger issues right now. I sat back in the chair, hoping it would make my sister relax.

“Is there anyone else, besides the fans that sent letters and Danny, who might have a reason to threaten you? Be upset with you? At all annoyed with you? Did you steal someone’s housekeeper? Nail appointment? Boyfriend? Dog sitter?" I asked.

Sonia shook her head. "I’m not seeing anyone! I didn't cheat. I’m not the one who threw a fit when my wife got the offer of a lifetime. If Danny got his big break I’d have been happy for him. But he liked the soap life and felt safe there. He never had enough ambition."

Sonia took a long drink of her Bloody Mary and it seemed to calm her down. My little sister never failed at anything. She was always popular and fell into acting almost by accident while trying to be a model. People loved her and fawned over her, which she couldn’t get enough of. The more popular you were though, the more people wanted to bring you down in this town. Now with the divorce, the upset fans, and a stalker, it had to be eating her up.

"It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Did you report the note and trespassing to the police?" I asked.

She looked up with a doe-eyed innocence many fell for.

I glared. “Sonia—”

Sonia shook her head. “The reporters, Hel. Those paparazzi. They’d hound me even more. I’d be all over Twitter, vlogs, YouTube, websites, and the gossip shows. Those tabloids are already vicious about the divorce and they’re everywhere. Say one thing in a salon and it’s on everyone’s iPhone ten seconds later."

“
TMZ
does love to mock you,” Jordan said, then tsked and rolled his eyes.

“Bad press doesn’t matter! You know Hollywood, Sonia. You can handle this. It’s just drama. A stalker could actually hurt you."

"Before it was so nice—the press focused on how successful I was. What a cute couple Danny and I were. Now it's my divorce and my deserting the soap when its ratings are sinking. All soaps’ ratings are diving now. Lots of high paid stars are getting the axe so the show can stay on the air. Some studios are cancelling soaps. This is the right career move. It’s my life. I want a hiatus instead of working nonstop all year." She snuggled with the dog like it was her security blanket.

"I know. Soap opera life is rough. Only two weeks off a year. It’s like you're a regular person." Damn, I swore I wouldn’t be my usual smart-assed self this trip!

“Look out, sisters gone wild!” Jordan sat back and held up his hands.

"It’s a lot of work to do a show. In early for makeup and hair and you work late all the time. I’m not a regular person. It’s part of my job to be pretty and perfect. Image sells." Sonia stomped her foot.

“The show change is smart," I admitted but couldn’t resist a joke. “How do I get my own show?”

“You chose your career, I chose mine." Sonia had a snarky side too. We were very much related even if it took a while to show.

“Danny’s career was tied to yours. If he’s that upset over the soap, maybe he’s trying to scare you.” I wanted to keep her focused on the problem.

“Get real, Hel. You’re too bad ass with all that Krav Maga self-defense stuff. Danny wouldn’t stalk me. He’s a Hollywood pretty boy but not that stupid. He knows you’re my first call.”

“Krav Maga?” Jordan asked, suddenly interested. “You have trendy potential. That’s the hottest martial arts thing going. How’d you get into that?”

“It’s just one of my studies. I got into martial arts before it was a trend. I’ve earned three black belts in different ones. My college roommate had an ex-boyfriend from hell and he—well, let’s just say I wanted to be able to defend myself. I ended up meeting my ex in a martial arts class.” The history of my life wasn’t interesting or relevant but I didn’t want to be rude.

“Your ex was a prince. Why did you ever let Todd go? He didn’t cheat on you.”

Sonia loved Todd like a big brother but it also let her play the victim. No, he didn’t cheat on me and he didn’t want the divorce either but Sonia wouldn’t win with distraction.

“Don’t change the subject. We need to go to the police station and file a report. Give them the note." I stood up.

I expected her to sprint into action. I’d pay Danny a visit later, alone. Even though Danny knew I could hurt him, divorce made people act irrationally. Jordan stood up with a distinctive attitude and smiled big at my sister. I appreciated his help trying to motivate her.

“Let’s get ready. We’ll feel better when we’re pretty.” Jordan nodded.

She scowled and didn’t move.

"Sonia." I gave her the big sister tone. “Keep pouting and you’ll get wrinkles.”

Her expression went neutral. "I’m not going to the police. We’re re-shooting the pilot this week. It starts tomorrow. I can't handle the stress, the scandal, the set, and all the pressure. On the soap I was one of dozens. Now I’m the female lead, Hel. The lead! Just make this go away."